


it's lonely at the top

by ser_pouncealot



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Falling In Love, Love/Hate, Pining, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 20:56:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16415813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ser_pouncealot/pseuds/ser_pouncealot
Summary: The second he sets his sights on her, he feels it.





	it's lonely at the top

The first time she formally meets him is with his gun in her face, but it's not the first time he notices her by a longshot.

 

Benny sees her wandering around the strip every now and then. He doesn't know much about her, just that she's a courier with the Mojave Express, and not much else. Everybody in Vegas has some sort of shtick, some sort of thing to peddle or sale to pitch. That's just how it is, and that's just how he likes it.

 

The courier,  _his_  courier, as he began to think of her in what he tries to convince himself is only feigned endearment, just takes care of business and leaves the Strip. It's uncommon for travelers not to be wooed by all the glitz and the glamour, and honestly? The fact that she's  _not_ impressed really interests him.

It's simple really. He wants to know more.

\------

The day the courier comes walking into the Tops like it's nothing special is the day Benny throws every attempt at keeping his interest to himself out the window. 

She pulls out a stool from one of the blackjack tables and he waits. She spends a good half-hour just playing cards, and doing quite well for herself judging by the stacks of chips resting on her side of the table. The dealer almost looks irritated, like he knows he's being hustled but doesn't want to cause a scene and scare off potential business.

Benny knows that look well. 

He swipes his lighter from his pocket and sparks it, lighting up a cigarette and watching, waiting. If he'd had more of a conscience, he would almost have felt weird watching someone from the other side of a room. Almost.

Benny wants nothing more than to go over and talk to her, really. He's intrigued, she's the subject of said interest, and and he sure as hell doesn't have anything else better to do. Still, he gets a feeling like he should just stay put where he is, up the short stack of stairs, behind the railing and relatively out of sight. 

He sucks in a particularly long drag of his cigarette and works his jaw upon exhale. He knows he only does that when he's nervous and god dammit, he really needs to do something about his nerves. All that pent up paranoia's going to be the death of him, someday.

Setting his half-smoked cig down in the nearest ashtray, Benny puts a foot forward to make his way on over to his mysterious courier. No sooner than his toe touched the ground, the woman gathered her chips, an amusing task that involved shoving them into a hat in an unceremonious sweeping motion, and stood up.

He sighs. Maybe he waited too long. 

Nevertheless, Benny sits down at the very same table she'd so freshly occupied herself and watched her make her way over to the chip counter and then to the exit, her pockets noticeably bulging a lot more than they had been when she'd started.

The door slammed shut and Benny snapped out of whatever transfixed haze he'd managed to work himself into.

The card dealer scoffed. "You got a starin' problem there, boss?"

Benny doesn't need to look at him to hear the smirk in his tone. 

So maybe he wasn't exactly being subtle. Not that it really mattered. The courier had her back turned to him almost the entire time she was in the casino.

Benny rose from the stool and patted the dealer on the sleeve. "C'mon, give a guy some breathin' room here."

After that, he went back to his burnt-down excuse for a cigarette. He thought about what could've been for a little bit, but stamped out his 'foolish' thoughts, as he put it, along with the stub. 

\-----

He stared at the name on the list and almost couldn't believe his eyes.

Diane Juarez, Courier six.

Courier six.

 _His_ courier. 

Benny didn't believe in fate really, but it really seemed like someone up there was playing a game of cat and mouse with him. 

Despite his reservations, he had a job to do and ambitions greater than some one-off feeling for some mailman he didn't even know from atom. He watched her struggle in her binds, the panic burning almost as brightly behind her gaze as much as her anger was. Whatever it was, it damn near made him change his mind about the whole ordeal. He considered tucking tail and just running, but no. He was here, he had the chip and he was in way, way too deep to back out of it now.

The Khan next to him shuffled impatiently. "Would you just get it over with?"

Benny sighed. God,  _damn_ _it all to hell_. Impatience from some wasteland tribal goon-for-hire was the last thing he wanted to deal with, especially not when he was trying not to talk himself out of it. This was something that his future really, really rested upon. He could be the king of Vegas, it he played his cards right. Hell, there was enough margin for error that he could even make a few slip ups and still come out on the top of the game. all he had to do was off this  _one_ poor unfortunate courier.

He played with the thought of it as he tried to shake it off. It was not, no matter how much it felt like it, a personal matter. It's just business, and sooner or later someone has to draw the short straw.

His attempts to rationalize the situation just weren't working like they usually did.

 _Fuck_.

He stomped his barely-smoked cig out in the dirt and turned to look at the courier. "Maybe Khans'll kill a broad without lookin' her in the face, but I ain't a fink, ya dig?"

He retrieved the chip from his breast pocket, displaying it openly for her to see. If nothing else, Benny at least had the decency to show her what she was being sent to an early grave over. "You've made you're last delivery, babe. I'm sorry you got twisted up in this scene, I really am."

Benny put the chip pack, pulling out Maria in its place. 

Killing an innocent never really feels any different from the first time you do it, Benny knows that much. He sighs in disappointment as he aims the barrel at her face. 

He wants to express to her that he didn't mean for this to happen to her, he really does but the words don't come out, don't seem appropriate. Seems like her luck must've run dry at the Tops that night not so long ago after she cashed in her chips. 

Pulling the trigger is a chore. It's sore like the day after a long and hard brush with death. 

Things like this, Benny tries not to think about, but everybody knows that sooner or later you gotta take out the dirty laundry whether you want to or not.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this on a whim at 5am oof
> 
> more to come, most likely.


End file.
